


Not Him

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [101]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Gen, Head Injury, Post-Nogitsune, Stilinski Family Feels, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up with a throbbing head, realizes he's in the trunk of a car, guesses it's  hunters, and is wrong when the trunk opens and he's facing his dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Him

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo prompt: mistaken identity. This was hard to fill, but I like what I did with it.

Stiles isn't really surprised when he wakes dazed and hurting and curled onto his side in a pitch black space, because his life generally goes wrong. Blinking into the darkness, he winces at the throb of pain from the back of his head and slowly surmises that he was hit there and knocked out. Carefully he flails out a hand and hits metal above him, rough carpet beneath him. When he tries to stretch out his legs, he discovers the space is too small.

Choking down a moment of panic--knowing if he doesn't, he'll hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness again--he fights past the pain in his head and closes his eyes, trying to use his other senses.

The moment he hears the car engine and the sound of the road, he knows he's in the trunk of a car.

Hunters, has to be.

The pain in his head swells, his eyes sting with tears as he squeezes them shut, and he forces himself to breathe, in, out, over and over. One curled fist presses to his chest, the other scrabbles around for anything he can use as a weapon. He's not surprised when he finds that he's the only thing in the trunk.

The car comes to a halt, the engine turning off, and Stiles tries to gather himself, prepare himself for whatever torture is coming.

He won't betray his Pack. He's done enough to them.

The trunk opens and he goes from scared but determined to frightened and confused at the sight of his father.

The Sheriff's eyes are full of fear, his face lined with worry, but he steps back, gesturing to Parrish and one of the other new deputies Stiles doesn't know.

"Get him out of there." His dad turns away, addresses someone Stiles can't see even as he's pulled out of the trunk, stumbling on numb legs, held up by the deputies. "Are you sure?"

"That's him. I don't know why he didn't show up on the video..." There's an accusation in the man's voice that makes his dad's back stiffen, makes Stiles tremble in sudden fear, because...No. "But, I was there. I gave a description. I found him outside the high school! Not even trying to hide." The man's arms are waving, his outrage obvious.

"We had a lot of conflicting reports of that night, mister..."

"Reynolds. I was in the hospital with kidney stones, but I saw him clearly. I gave my report. This town isn't that big." Again, the accusatory tone, and Stiles winces and lets his eyes close.

He doesn't try to protest.

There's nothing to protest.

"Mr. Reynolds, please go with Deputy Barlow here and he'll take your new statement and find your original one. You should have called us, sir, rather than taking the law into your own hands. If you're wrong, you've assaulted a minor."

Barlow releases Stiles' arm even as the guy who hit him squawks in protest, and then his dad is in front of him, catching him before he can collapse into Parrish, concern written all over him.

"Are you okay, kid?" he murmurs, hand warm and comforting on his upper arm, holding him up.

His head still hurts, but physically, yeah, and he mumbles that along with, "I'm so sorry, dad."

"This guy is accusing you of something you didn't do."

"But..." He lifts teary eyes to his father's determined face.

"You did not do this." The Sheriff's eyes flicker over to Parrish. "Melissa McCall was off duty ten minutes ago at the hospital." He rattles off her cell number. "Tell her Stiles is hurt, head wound, and ask her to bring her kit here."

Parrish hurries into the station and Stiles' dad wraps him in a tight embrace.

"We'll fix this, Stiles. Come on, I want to look at your head. If Melissa says you have to go to the hospital, you go without complaint, okay?" 

Stiles flinches, wants to protest, because he hasn't been back there since... But his dad is so worried sounding, he just nods, and fresh pain blossoms. Closing his eyes, he lets his dad guide him into the station and the comfort of his office and one of the familiar squishy chairs, the cheap faux-leather cushion accustomed to his butt from many years of being filled by it.

Keeping his eyes closed, he lets his dad gently poke at the bump, wincing in pain and worry as the man curses softly.

"It's still bleeding a bit sluggishly. That...idiot called us fifteen minutes ago so you weren't out long." He moves in front of Stiles. "Can you open your eyes for me, kiddo?" 

Slowly he does, and there's more pain and he shades his eyes with one shaking hand before his dad turns off the overhead lights and angles the desk lamp away from them.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Dad..."

"You're not going to get arrested for something you didn't do."

"Dad," he protests painfully.

"You didn't do it," the Sheriff snaps back.

"I...Rationally, I know that, dad, but that guy, he was there. Other survivors have to be around. This isn't a big town. I've been expecting this." At the shocked look on his dad's face, his voice dwindles to a whisper. "I won't let anyone accuse you of trying to cover this up."

"Stiles. Son."

Biting his lower lip, Stiles locks his jaw and looks directly into his father's eyes. "My weakness let the Nogitsune in. I'll take the punishment. I won't risk your job again, dad."

Anger snapped through the Sheriff's eyes. "Eleven people died at the hospital. Enough survived, that, yes, there were reports that included your physical description, a few from people who actually know who you are. Do you really think I wasn't prepared for this?"

Confusion wipes away his determination to martyr himself and his dad's face softens, his hand reaching out to grip Stiles' shoulder. 

"Stiles, I have three eyewitness statements placing you well away from the hospital at the time of the massacre. Statements from people who actually do know you, better than a couple of frightened nurses and interns, and a guy with kidney stones that was probably drugged on painkillers. You were with the Yukimuras, and I got those statements the day after it happened. Kira might have a reason to lie for you, but her parents, both upstanding citizens, don't."

Stiles' mouth drops open and his dad squeezes his shoulder as he smiles fondly. 

"You didn't kill anyone and I'm not letting you take the fall for an evil fox demon."

"Spirit," he corrects automatically, which makes his dad roll his eyes, and suddenly the panic he's been hovering on the edge of falling into is gone and a different kind of tears flood his eyes.

Carefully his dad, who's leaning against his desk, leans down to hug him awkwardly, and Stiles, ignoring the pain in his head, scrambles up and onto his lap, crying and clinging. His dad hugs him tighter, murmuring wordlessly until Melissa arrives with Parrish--the former smiling with tears in her eyes at the sight, even as she looks in concern at the gash on the back of Stiles head; the latter holding a file which confirms that Mr. Reynolds was on heavy duty painkillers, barely conscious, and his original statement was dismissed as not credible, and asking if the Sheriff wants him charged with assault.

Stiles shakes his head because he wants this over, and he feels his dad sigh heavily against his cheek.

"No, give the idiot a stern warning. Show him the statements from the Yukimuras if you have to. Convince him he was confused from the drugs and my son was nowhere near the hospital that night."

Stiles relaxes against his dad, then winces as Melissa pokes at his head.

"This needs stitches," she says, making Stiles whine a protest.

"I'll make sure I stress the 'your son', Sheriff," Parrish says, a hint of humor in his voice.

"You do that, and tell him the next time he tries to be a vigilante, I will toss him in jail."

"Gotcha."

"Hospital, kiddo," Melissa says kindly.

Stiles doesn't want to go there, to that place, but his head hurts and he knows arguing against both his dad and Melissa is futile, so he reluctantly slides off his dad's lap, but not out of his arms. "Are you...? Can you come, too."

"Stiles, I'm not letting you out of my sight," his dad declares, before brushing a warm kiss over his forehead and guiding him out of the office.

End


End file.
